Aunt Thenardier
by Tam Lynne
Summary: Oh, dear - another Marie-Suzanne has been born.


Disclaimer: Marie-Suzanne Thénardier belongs to me, and me alone.  Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Gavroche do not.  Eppie Sue, I believe, is communal property.

Aunt Thénardier

_Pointless little fic.  Oh, dear.  Bored Amis . . . _

"Combeferre?"  Courfeyrac wandered over to where the dark-haired scholar was sitting on a cloud, looking puzzled, with a sheaf of papers in his hands.  "What are you doing?"

            Combeferre adjusted his glasses and looked up.  "Oh, hello, Courfeyrac.  I was just looking over the script for the musical again -"

            Courfeyrac groaned.  "You _know _every time we take that thing out, someone ends up having a hissy fit.  Either Bahorel complains about his lack of lines, or Jehan tries to rewrite it to make it more poetic, or Enjolras -"

            "I know, I know," said Combeferre, with a sigh.  "But it has a strange fascination.  Anyway, I learn things from it.  Did you know Gavroche has an aunt?"

            "What?  No he doesn't."

            "According to this, he does."  Combeferre pointed to the libretto.  "After Javert goes stargazing -"

            "Javert?"  Courfeyrac, who tended to skim over the parts of the story not revolving around himself, blinked.  "Stargazing?"

            "And singing," said Combeferre, not without a certain satisfaction.  "Apparently he has a very nice voice . . ."

            "Apparently, so do we all, according to that thing," pointed out Courfeyrac.  "Obviously the authors never heard Feuilly crooning the Polish national anthem."

            Combeferre shuddered.  "Please.  I've been trying to block that out of my mind.  Anyways, after that, little Gavroche perches up somewhere, boasts for a bit about his knowledge of the streets, and finishes, "Don't you worry, auntie dear, you can always find me here . . ."  Obviously, Gavroche has to have an aunt, which I, for one, find rather intriguing."

            "I would think they were just really having trouble figuring out how to get it to fit the rhyme scheme," said Courfeyrac, giving Combeferre an odd look.  "Anyway, think what would happen if he really _did _have an aunt.  Do you know how much trouble we'd be in?  I'd bet you anything her name would turn out to be Marie-Suzanne, for a start -"

            "I wouldn't think that would bother you much," Combeferre pointed out.  "You always laugh when Enjolras and Grantaire get them, and they hardly ever bother you."

            "Well, yes," admitted Courfeyrac, rather smugly.  "But on the other hand, think how warped little Gavroche would get, with a Marie-Suzanne as a relative -"

            "Well, he has got Eppie Sues.  By the dozen. And he doesn't seem to mind them."

            "Yes, but they spend all their time running about after Marius, or Enjolras, or Grantaire, or even, God help us, Javert -"

            "Perhaps they like his singing voice," said Combeferre.

            "In any case, they don't have time to spend worrying about Gavroche.  As long as you're not the object of their obsession – or Cosette – Eppie Sues tend to be relatively harmless girls.  A Gavroche's-aunt Marie-Suzanne, on the other hand, would be bound to be the motherly type, and poor Gavroche would be scarred for life.  She'd probably try to sober up Grantaire, too, and there goes our free entertainment for Enjolras' meetings."

            "I don't think anyone could scar Gavroche," said Combeferre, who had lost more money than he wanted to say to poor Gavroche over the years.  "But you're probably right."  

            "I'm certainly right," said Courfeyrac emphatically.  "Come over to the bar.  I'll buy you a drink, and no more talk about the silly script."

            Combeferre sighed and got up, leaving the libretto, unnoticed, on the floor, open to the page with the lyric in question.

As soon as they were out of sight, a girl emerged from the shadows where she had been hidden, eavesdropping.  Her eyes darted around, making sure all canon characters were out of sight; then she picked up the script, giggling maniacally, and headed off to her computer.

            And Marie-Suzanne Thénardier was born.

_More adventures of Marie-Suzanne Thénardier may follow; I haven't quite decided yet.  _


End file.
